A Hasty Retreat (Donegal Sidhe #0.75)

Trevor dashed down the steps and took a deep breath.  Finals were over, a couple of days early even.  His history professor had allowed those who felt ready to come in and take the test whenever.  Pulling his patchwork cap down on his head, he sat down on his favorite bench and closed his eyes.  The weather was warming up and the sun felt nice.  Everything was perfect.

In a few days he’d be heading to Ireland to visit his Grandad.  Grandad had been sick and asked Trevor to come stay for a while.  It was the first time he’d ever gone sometime other than the second week of July.  That was the tradition Grandad had always insisted on.  He’d never explained it, just enforced it.

“Trevor!”  An irritatingly familiar drawl broke through his thoughts and Trevor frowned.  He’d hoped it was late enough in the afternoon that he wouldn’t run into anyone.  His eyes shot open, and he looked for the source.  Sure enough, Claire Austin was hurrying, as quickly as her tight skirt and high heels would allow, towards him.  She smiled widely, her over-whitened teeth glinting in the sun.  When she saw he wasn’t moving, she slowed down and sashayed the rest of the way, swaying her hips too much for a normal gait.

He knew what she was doing but ignored it.  It would be rude to point it out, and politeness was always the number one rule.  He hitched on a small smile of his own, hoping he could cut this short.

“Trevor, how are you?  I didn’t think you had any tests today.  I just finished my last one,” she rambled, not giving him a chance to answer.  She perched next to him, scooting as close as possible without actually touching him.  She smelled like she’d bathed in perfume and he had to turn his head to get some fresh air.

“The professor gave us the option of taking the test early,” he said.

“Oh, you’re so smart.  I take every possible moment to study I can.  It doesn’t come as easy for me.”  She batted her eyes and bumped his shoulder.  Trevor fought to keep his eyes from rolling.  Claire came from a wealthy oil family somewhere in Texas.  Her grandfather had decided a year at Cambridge would be just the thing for his little princess.

Reaching his limit, Trevor stood and gave her a curt nod.  “Well I must finish preparing for my trip.  If you’ll excuse me.”

He turned to leave.  “Well I’ll see you this evening then!” her words stopped him in his tracks. 

What is she rambling about?  He scrambled to think of anything that they both might be going to and drew a blank.  As far as he knew, he had no plans for the evening.

He hurried home, eager to ask his mother what Claire could possibly mean.  As he entered the house, Stames, the butler, took his coat and hat.  Stames held Trevor’s cap between two fingers as though it might be infectious.  He’d never hid the fact he thought that sort of headwear was inappropriate for a young man of Trevor’s social status.  Trevor couldn’t care less.

“Where is mother?” Trevor asked, peering into the nearby rooms.

“In the conservatory, I believe sir,” Stames replied as he walked stiffly out of the foyer.

Trevor marched towards the conservatory and burst through the double doors.  Fresh cut flowers dripped from every possibly surface, mostly roses.  His mother sat at a table filled with several other wealthy matriarchs in the area all dressed for tea.  She looked scandalized by his sudden appearance.  Trying to cover his mistake, Trevor bowed slightly to the women.

“Mother, may I have a quick word?” he asked, tight lipped.

Elizabeth Bradigan pulled her napkin from her lap and laid it on the table before standing slowly.  A cascade of lavender ruffles obscured her thin frame and rustled with each movement.  “If you’ll please excuse me, ladies.”